


The Plot Thickens

by mynameisnemo



Category: Anthropomorfic, Books (Anthropomorphic) - Fandom, Libraries (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnemo/pseuds/mynameisnemo
Summary: Once upon a nice quiet night at the library...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Plot Thickens

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is entirely the fault of the Discord. It started with taru posting [this photo](https://t.co/ihRIBQeUR4), and then mark and kota and I started making up a story about what happens after closing at the library and then this happened. The title is entirely mark's fault, I had nothing to do with it. Huge thanks to Kota for beta-ing for me. <3

There’s only two spots of light in the whole library, a dim white one over the circulation desk to let any passing night patrol see that the building is empty and quiet, and the soft red glow of the exit sign above the door. It’s quiet in the room, but not quite silent. The sound of air blowing from the vents just enough to muffle the _ffffwp_ of pages turning, the crunching of dust jackets, the slap of a book falling on another. 

One of the thick history books, high on its shelf in the non-fiction area, contemplates the almost rhythmic sound coming from the Romance section, a few shelves away, and wonders how they can get up to so much night after night, with no break. Of course, even though it’s shelved with its like brethren, other history books, it’s not as though WWII is going to break out here on this shelf. The non-fiction books know that they must be more grounded about that type of thing than the fiction books seem to understand. 

This particular book is about D-Day and the following battle of Normandy while its most recent neighbors cover Operation: ARGUMENT and Winston Churchill’s bunker respectively. They have almost nothing in common between them, despite being about the same era. The difference in topics making only for interesting comparisons, nothing more. 

Besides which, D-Day considers, it doesn’t think it would be able to swing its corpulent body into such action as it can hear from Romance and if it were to try, it would probably flatten its less hefty section-mates. 

It’s settling in to a nice conversation on the differences between air and land battle tactics with the book on one side, one it doesn’t often see as there is usually another book between them, currently absent due to being checked out. 

It’s just getting interesting when D-Day hears its neighbor sigh deeply and, in an annoyed voice, utter a curse. “Someone’s left the gate to the children’s section open again tonight. That new children’s librarian ought to be written up.”

D-Day peers over the edge as a series of young reader’s paperbacks race by, whooping and screaming as they do. They arrow off towards the science fiction section, a few board books toddling along in their wake.

“One of these days,” remarks a skinny book about the Pegasus Bridge on the shelf below, mis-shelved by a careless patron earlier in the week but not yet discovered and put back away. “One of these days those children’s adventure books will venture too close to the horror section.” It shudders at the thought, and D-Day shudders as well. Neither of them have been so unlucky to have been abandoned overnight in the horror section, they’ve only had to occasionally pass through during the day or be taken home with one of the denizens of that section. 

Even during the day, the horror section gives off an ominous vibe, stuck in a back corner under a light that seems to malfunction with astonishing regularity, often plunging the section into a dimness that is only illuminated by the surrounding lights, partially blocked by the tall shelves and absorbed by the many many black covered books, only their titles written on their bindings standing out.

It doesn’t bear thinking about really; even contemplating the debauchery of the Romance section would be preferable. With an effort, D-Day brings its attention back to its neighbor, to battle fields long past. It doesn’t understand fiction, it doesn’t think it ever will. Those strange books that devote themselves to a made up world. Some of them don’t even have the decency to stick to the world rules of the world that exists, at least abiding by the laws of nature and physics. One time D-Day was taken home with a stack of YA books that were about beings called vampires of all things. It had been quite happy to go to the older sibling of the child that had checked the rest of those books out, into a room where research was obviously the main focus of the occupant, and not beasts that drank blood from humans through their teeth! 

The night passes quickly in quiet conversation, occasionally punctuated by a moan from Romance, an unearthly scream from Horror, the odd _Yeehaw!_ from the Westerns. There is also the ubiquitous sound of laughter and screaming from all over the library of the children’s books, roaming the stacks and enjoying the freedom of not being behind the baby gate into the children’s area. In the non-fiction section there is almost never anything except the low murmur of conversation as different topics are discussed between shelf-mates and even books on adjacent shelves. 

Morning light begins to filter in from the skylights eventually, before it finally begins to spread in a warm gold pool through the eastern facing windows across the floor.  
The children’s books race back to their shelves, the Romance novels returning to their upright positions as though they had never been any other way and the horror section giving one final blood-curdling screech before falling forbiddingly silent. 

Even though it is faced the wrong way, D-Day can hear the sound of jingling keys through the sliding glass doors as the first librarian unlocks them, anticipating the first whoosh of the doors opening for the day. It’s too far back from them to feel the fresh air but it knows what it feels like from the circulation desk, how the air will rush in cold or hot or mild, tickling at its pages and sometimes making the less substantial paperbacks raise their covers in a rush. 

Before it hears that whoosh though, it hears another sound. A thump, muffled, from the direction of the Horror corner. It almost asks if any of the other books know what it was, but before it can, the doors open and the librarian enters, jingling keys and humming a song as they walk. 

D-Day thinks that it will have to wait until the librarian goes to that area to find out what’s happening. Luckily, through the Horror section is the door to the closet where the overnight return cart stays, catching books that are pushed in through a flap in the wall, so the librarian will definitely walk that way. The book waits patiently, it knows there is no rush to these things. After all, it is a history book, that’s part of the lesson that it teaches the world itself. 

~•~

Reilly opens the door to the library and walks in, enjoying the rush of cool air. It’s barely 8am and already hot as anything outside. They walk through the entryway, flipping on the lights as they go, noticing that the one over the Horror section is flickering again. No matter how many times they have an electrician out, it doesn’t ever seem to stay fixed. It’s almost eerie. 

They whistle the opening lines of “Here Comes the Sun” as they deposit their coffee mug on the circulation desk without stopping, continuing on over to that darkened back corner to pull out the overnight returns bin from its closet and find out if there are any books there. Two days ago they forgot to check until later in the day, only to find out that someone had dumped a huge stack of adventure stories for children in there that had needed to be re-shelved. They keep whistling as they walk, absentmindedly singing “and I saaa-aay, it’s all--” 

They break off as they turn the corner to walk under the broken light and find a single lonely children’s picture book lying there, face down. They bend to pick it up, goosebumps tingling across the back of their neck as they do. The book is lying splayed open on bent pages and when they flip it over they notice the spine is broken, some of the pages even partially pulled loose from the binding. “What on earth--” they mumble to themselves as they carry the book back to the circulation desk to examine it. It almost looks as though it had been intentional, as though someone had tried to destroy this poor happy children’s book about a tree house adventure. And yet…

And yet it hadn’t been there just last night when Reilly closed the library down and made sure the overnight cart was properly stored. And no one else has been in the library except for the books.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. <3


End file.
